


Drabbles and Oneshots From the SOH Archives

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Muteness, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of small, previously unpublished pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Culling

**Author's Note:**

> In which the Gotei decides that no, people like Ichigo are not to the benefit of Soul Society.

“This can’t be happening.”

“Do you wanna listen to that tape again? This is straight from the Central 46, Urahara-san.”

Ichigo leans forward, sharp, haunted face eery in the artificial light of the underground labs of the shouten.

“Do you really think they wouldn’t pull something like this? After what they did to you and the Visored?”

Kisuke’s hands are shaking slightly where they fiddle with the collar of his plain white sleep shirt. Ichigo’s right, of course he is. Kisuke’s just being stupid— shock, or whatever.

To prevent future anomalies such as Substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo, all humans living in the boundaries of Karakura with above average reiryoku will be subject to immediate extermination…

“It’s illegal,” he murmurs wildly, running a hand through his hair. “Hollowfication is one thing, but the Great Laws… The dead cannot interfere with the living. It’ll throw everything off balance.”

“Come on, Urahara-san, you’re not usually this slow.” The younger man’s face curls up into something like a sneer. “You know Karakura is located in a rift. You know the veil is thin— thin enough for a few shinigami to pass through, unnoticed, and have a bit of fun on leave—“

“There can’t be enough humans of shinigami descent to warrant a full-blown…”

Subject to extermination…

“Of course there are. I mean, seriously? You’ve got grandkids, Urahara-san.”

“I’ve lived in this city a hundred and fifteen years, of course I—“ the blond freezes. “How do you know about that?”

Ichigo shrugs. “Same way I know everything else,” he says. “Aizen.”

Ah, yes, there’s that. There’s the fact that Ichigo, for the last eight years, has buried himself in Aizen’s notes, his projects, his empire. That only makes Urahara suspicious, quite honestly.

“How do you know it wasn’t planted?” He asks, challenges. “Aizen-san was a manipulator. For all you know, this could be part of some other ridiculous and convoluted plan he has for you.”

Ichigo smiles wanly.

“I thought that, too,” he admits. “But Grimmjow’s a pretty reliable guy, once you get to know him— and there’s this.”

Ichigo reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a handful of photographs. He holds them out for the shopkeeper to take.

“That’s Morinaga Yotarou,” he says. “Used to be in my special ed class in elementary school. Aizen’s file on him says he was a descendent of Jiranbou, fifth generation or some shit.”

Kisuke can’t quite hold back the cringe as he takes in the photographs.

“Jiranbou-san had children?” he mumbles. “That’s not…”

“Yeah, it’s fucking nasty.”

Kisuke stops at the last photo, this one of just the severed head. “When did this happen?”

“Approximately six hours after Grimmjow got the recording to me, which was two days after the decision was made.”

“Slow response time.”

“Yeah, well, he’s got a lot on his mind.” Ichigo looks up. “I’m going to talk with a few of the others who know, to decide what to do about the situation. I’d like you there.”

Kisuke’s lip curls.

“Think you might need a mad scientist around?” He inquires lightly.

“I’ve got two of those already.”

The orangette takes the photos, stashing them back into his jacket again. “No, no. I don’t need anything from you. But I figure you’d like to be kept informed.”

Kisuke stares at his former student, eyes narrowed. That can’t possibly be everything. Ichigo, apparently, doesn’t seem to notice (or rather, ignores) his look, digging into his coat pocket for his cigarette pack. “A car’ll be here in twenty minutes. Go get dressed, if you wanna come.” And Ichigo lights up, apparently done with the conversation.

Kisuke doesn’t let people smoke inside, especially not in the kitchen, but something in the younger man’s relaxed pose is forced, something in the way he shuts off, ends the conversation, ends the interaction.

The blond gets up and gets dressed.


	2. Making Ends Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and his life as a prostitute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea I play with a lot. I don't know why, but it's a thing.

Ichigo loses his virginity at eleven, and he loses it for money.

He doesn’t particularly mind, though he knows if an adult finds out he’ll be in therapy until he dies. Times are hard; Isshin isn’t working so much as drinking, and that alone is taking its toll. Most of Masaki’s things have been tossed in fits of anger and grief, save for what precious few objects Ichigo could hide away in his room.

A cross, a key, an engagement ring. That’s what Ichigo has managed to save to remember his mother by, three little things he selfishly keeps to himself, because, because…

That doesn’t matter.

So he loses his virginity at eleven, to a businessman with deceptively kind eyes and cold hands, who thinks it’s acceptable to approach little boys at gas stations. The money is nothing like what he could have gotten, considering he was a virgin, but it’s enough to pay the bills, to buy the girls new uniforms, and to put food on the table for the next month.

Isshin never notices that somehow, there’s money being spent on something other than his liquor, and Ichigo doesn't care.

Then the money runs out, and Ichigo goes out again.

And again.

And again.

He gets pretty good at scouting out clients, and he gets pretty good about the whole job. Then something happens— something Ichigo would rather not think about— and Ichigo realizes maybe it’s time he learned to protect himself.

No, he doesn’t get raped, though Ichigo’s heard the stories from the ladies that frequent the same areas he does. It’s nothing like that.

The rage and the grief are still strong, in Isshin’s heart, and Ichigo has the misfortune of coming in at his usual hour (late) when Isshin is having a fit.

The girls are fine. Ichigo pushes them up the stairs and into the bathroom before Isshin can do anything to them, but he doesn’t quite manage to escape any blows himself. All told, he gets a black eye and a split lip, plus what turn out to be bruised ribs.

Ichigo’s long since learned that his father’s behavior is routine. It may have only happened once, but it’s only fair to assume it will happen again.

He heals up enough to do the only thing he knows how, and works until he bleeds, sore and sick and trembling. He’s lucky the man behind the counter of the hotel knows him, because he would have been tossed out otherwise. Instead, he gets a day to rest, a sandwich and a bottle of water, and bus money on top of it.

He signs the girls up for self-defense classes. He himself, already a connoisseur of the underbelly of Karakura, convinces a regular of his to teach him a few basic techniques one might need if they found themselves in the muck with all the other monsters.

The man’s name is Mushi, and he teaches Ichigo things that will make his stomach turn for years after.

“Pain is one of the best ways to make people cooperate,” he tells Ichigo after a session that leaves the eleven-almost-twelve year old missing three fingernails and nursing a broken pinky. “If you know how to apply it, you can do anything you want.”

It isn’t until much later, when Mushi’s face ends up in the news after a triple homicide, that Ichigo finds out the man is high up in yakuza— so high his talents are only used in very special circumstances.

But that’s another story.

As Ichigo expected, it happens again, except this time, Ichigo isn’t home. Isshin doesn’t manage to kill the girls, but he did slam Yuzu in the head with a bottle and break Karin’s hand before she gets them into the safety of the basement.

Isshin, ever a vindictive thing, locks them in and turns off the light, and that’s how Ichigo finds them.

The funny thing is, when Ichigo’s angry— properly angry, not his usual snark and sharpness— he goes very calm. His demeanor is frigid, careful and exact as he pulls glass out of Yuzu’s scalp and does his best to set Karin’s hand. He takes them upstairs, creeping past their father who’s passed out on the couch.

He takes them to his bedroom.

“Don’t let her fall asleep,” he tells Karin quietly, tucking them both into his bed. “I think she’s concussed.”

The girls are seven, and terrified.

“What’cha gonna do, Ichi-nii?” Yuzu asks, eyes not quite focused as she looks up at her brother. He presses a careful kiss to her cheek.

“What needs to be done.”

He leaves them there, curled up in his bed, and shuts the door behind him.

There’s a baseball bat in the garage. The weight is easy in Ichigo’s hand despite its size, thanks to Mushi, and with a few swings, he heads back into the house.

The first swing shatters Isshin’s collarbone, waking him in one of the most unpleasant ways Ichigo can think of without nearly killing him.

His shout probably wakes the neighbors, but Ichigo doesn’t care.

He swings again, this time at his knees. Again, at his fingers. Again, at his ribs. Ichigo beats him until the wood of the bat splinters, and Isshin can’t do much more than whimper.

Ichigo throws down what’s left of his weapon, turning Isshin up to face him with his foot.

“You touch a drop ever again and I’ll kill you,” Ichigo tells him plainly, eyes shadowed and mouth twisted into something that shouldn’t look so natural on a twelve year old. “You ever try to harm the girls, and I’ll kill you. You ever try to pull any of the shit you’ve pulled in the last few years, and I will _fucking_ kill you.”

Ichigo turned twelve a week ago, and as a rule, doesn’t curse much. However, in this case, he thinks it helps emphasize exactly what he wants to happen.

Isshin doesn’t speak, glaring defiantly (drunkenly) up at his son until Ichigo starts putting pressure on probably cracked ribs, making him squeak and whimper like the dog Ichigo thinks he is.

Finally, he nods, and Ichigo lets off.

Then he calls a doctor.

 

*.*

 

The doctor who ends up treating them has white hair and cold eyes, which Ichigo finds himself appreciating after the obvious pity of the nurses.

Ichigo tells them it was a robbery gone bad. The doctor seems to know he’s lying, but doesn’t say anything about it. The girls agree with every word he says, so it doesn’t matter, anyway.

The doctor talks to Isshin a lot, occasionally yelling when Ichigo and the girls aren’t in the room. Ichigo knows who to thank, when Isshin signs up for Alcoholics Anonymous, and so he lets the doctor poke and prod him before they leave.

“Reach for the stars,” the doctor— Ishida-sensei, orders gently, pulling up the orangette’s shirt.

“What are you checking for?” Ichigo asks as he holds up his arms obediently.

“Signs of abuse.”

“There aren’t any.”

Ishida-sensei gives him a sharp, calculating look, but Ichigo knows what he’s said.

“He’s going to get better,” the white-haired man offers, leaning forward to inspect Ichigo’s ribs. There’s a touch of scarring—crescent moons on his thighs and hips— but those are hidden by the edge of his pants. “Your father will get better or I’ll step in.”

Ichigo doesn’t answer and Ishida-sensei steps back, snapping off white rubber gloves.

“My kaa-san used to say that, when we were little,” he remarks as the doctor putters around the room with cotton swabs. “‘Reach for the stars’.”

Something in his face tenses, but otherwise, Ishida-sensei ignores him.

Eventually, they all go home. Isshin dumps every bottle he has, Yuzu learns to cook something more than the boxed crap they’d been living off of since Masaki’s death, Karin goes out for the soccer team and eventually, Ichigo stops working.

It goes well enough, for a very long time, especially once Isshin has his practice up and running again.

Then, the shinigami show up.


	3. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have proven irreverent at the best of times, which is why Ichigo speaks to me on a spiritual level. If he were gay, and if he were inclined to ‘come out’, I figure he’d go about it like this. I also maybe love Ichigo saying ridiculous things.

 

“Dad, just so you know, I’m a flaming queer.”

Isshin blinks. His son continues eating, silent and seemingly unconcerned by his father’s reaction.

“Did you— did you just say what I think you said?”

Ichigo looks back up, brow furrowed in annoyance.

“What?”

“Did you just… Come out to me?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo looks back at his food. “I just figured you ought to know.”

“I—“ The gears in Isshin’s brain grind to a halt, and for a moment, he flounders, tongue twisting as he struggles for words.

“Are you having sex?” Oh, God, not what he meant to say.

Predictably, Ichigo blushes— not as badly as Isshin would have thought, but he does.

“Not really your business, is it?” he mumbles. “And anyway, do you really want to know?”

No, not really, but Ichigo hasn’t answered the question with a firm ‘no’, which means….

“Masaki! Our son’s had sex!”

“Oh my God.”

Ichigo watches, nonplussed, as his father throws himself at the poster on the wall, before sighing and returning to his breakfast.

He'll be insufferable now.


	4. Patient B912

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sui Feng is sent out to assassinate the 'last remaining threat' to Soul Society, Kurosaki Ichigo. Thing is, Ichigo had a mental break, is locked up in the Karakura Asylum, and has been positively desperate for company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some Criminally Insane!Ichigo

He’s dangerous, among humans.

At least, that’s what Sui Feng gathers as she moves silently through steel door after steel door in search of her target. His cell is located in the bowels of the hospital, far away from the other patients. The whole place reminds her of the Maggot’s Nest, and she feels a shiver run down her spine.

She dislikes prisons.

But technically, this place isn’t a prison. It’s an institution, meant to heal and better the lives of its patients. Sui Feng thinks perhaps the place once served as it was meant to, but as she hears the screams of its patients as she passes, she thinks that time has long since passed.

She finds the end of the corridor. There’s only one door, his door, and—

It’s plastic.

The whole wall, in fact, is made of plastic, thick, bullet-proof plastic with tiny holes drilled into it. Peering in, she counts eight cameras, three motion detectors, and sixteen microphones, all centered around the motionless lump on the bed.

A tangle of orange hair falling over the edge of the bed is all she needs to identify him, and so she draws her weapon and steps through the glass.

He doesn’t move at all, sound asleep even as she pulls back the blankets to peer at his face.

He looks like a child. He _is_ a child.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” she murmurs, setting the point of her blade at his neck. “You have been deemed a threat to the Laws of Soul Society—“

There’s a stab of pain in her thigh and suddenly she goes stiff, poised over Kurosaki’s body like a brothel bitch, knife in one hand, her other hand balanced on his shoulder.

His eyes slide open and his lips curl into a smile.

“Aw, now, look at this,” He sits up slowly, making her body slide back until she’s settled on his thighs. “A fan."

Sui Feng can’t move. Her muscles have gone stiff with an unknown poison, and she can do nothing but watch as Ichigo sits up, pulling the needle he’d shoved into her thigh out with a vicious yank before dropping it with a clatter onto the tile floor.

"Hey there, pretty girl," he says warmly, an odd, manic smile that makes Sui Feng shiver. "How’d you know I needed some company?"

This is going to end very, very poorly.


	5. Errors In Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Soulmate!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I always wondered how soulmate!aus would work with people who are deaf/mute. Like, generally being one of those two things (or both) doesn't involve speech? I didn't quite do that here, as Ichigo's mutism is self-imposed, but still. Interesting concept.
> 
> Ichigo/Kisuke

Isshin warned Kisuke that his son doesn't speak, but it's one thing to know and another thing to witness a perfectly healthy teenaged boy answering every question with sign or a notepad.

Outwardly, though, he pretends he isn't made slightly uncomfortable by it and instead focuses on the Plan. The Big Plan That Will Save Soul Society.

He has diagrams.

(He also has the little doodles Ichigo does of him, complete with little captions that say things like 'getaboushi is a lazy old man' or 'getaboushi thinking'. They're cute, and fit his otherwise empty places between the diagrams in his lab.)

Of course, any plan with such a long name will fuck up. Rukia gets taken, Ichigo's powers are fucked, and Aizen looks like he's in a position to win.

This isn't the Plan. This is a clusterfuck. And it's at least mostly Kisuke's fault. He has to fix it.

He plays on Ichigo's loyalty. He makes it seem like it's the only way to save Rukia (and it kind of is) and the moment Ichigo tilts his chin in anything that even vaguely resembles a nod Kisuke knocks him out and hollowfies him. He trains him (sorta) and fucks with him and sends him off with his human friends to probably die grisly deaths at the hands of some of the most powerful shinigami in Soul Society.

He feels a pang when he thinks about it for too long. The kids are all a good enough sort, and Ichigo seems to fall in a natural sort of companionship by Kisuke's side in the few moments they spent together around the table or during a break on the training grounds. Their humor is similar, even if Ichigo's is substantially more subtle (silent), and they even like the same brand of sharp peppermint tea.

Well, hopefully the kid survives, he thinks as he smoothes out a crumpled doodle of himself with cat ears. Maybe then they can hang out without a potential catastrophe hanging over their heads.

*.*

Ichigo breaks his nose and his cheekbone with the hit he lands upon arriving back in Karakura. Kisuke's impressed, and also in pain, so he drops the kids off at their respective houses and invites them over tomorrow for tea and details.

The teens agree readily, spirits high after their miraculous victory. Ichigo, as per usual, stays quiet, and is the first to hop off the monstrous sheet that Kisuke's piloting.

Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that Ichigo doesn't show up after school with his friends. Kisuke did piss him off pretty bad, after all.

He doesn't show up next week, either, when Kisuke offered to help Chado train with both arms.

Or the next week, when Orihime gets Tessai to help her with her mangled fighter fairy.

Ichigo's missing for somewhere near two months when he finally asks Chado about it.

The big boy shrugs.

"Ichigo's not feeling like himself," he says. "He thinks it's better to stay home."

That... It isn't quite a lie, but Kisuke still feels like he's missing something.

Well, he guesses he'll just figure it out on his own.

*.*

Ichigo sleeps like he's a dead mouse in the cold, curled up in the fetal position with his head tucked against his knees. It's almost darling, the way he's nested in the center of all his blankets, pillow shoved under his ear like an afterthought. Kisuke watches him sleep like that for a little while, face relaxed and gentle in the half-light of the moon.

Then, of course, something changes. Ichigo's mouth is pulled into a frown and his fingers spasm where they're curled around his shoulders. He's having a nightmare. A bad one.

Kisuke feels like he should do something, thinks maybe he should wake him up as Ichigo's face contorts into something like fear and tears begin to pool at the corners of his eyes.

His hands spasm again, this time digging nails into soft flesh. Blood pools, and with one last, violent twitch, Ichigo wakes up.

Kisuke ducks out of sight before he can be noticed. It's probably be best for the both of them if he pretends he didn't see. He does, however decide to make a phone call.

Shinji's always been the helpful sort.

*.*

"The kid's a goddamn mute, Kisuke- how do ya expect me ta help him if he can't talk?"

"He carries a notepad for a reason," Kisuke points out placidly. "And he certainly has no trouble understanding anything you might think to tell him."

"It's pissing Hiyori off," Shinji adds. "She's been trying ta get him ta talk— practically torturing him, to be honest."

"That won't do. He's a delicate sort." "Yeah. How long's he been like that?"

"... A long time, for a human."

Shinji huffs loudly.

"Why the hell'd ya do it, Kisuke?" He asks, sitting back on the porch. "It's obvious ya like the kid. Why'd ya make him a Visored?"

Kisuke doesn't speak for a long moment. Then he shrugs.

"It was part of the plan."

*.*

Ichigo still doesn't visit. Another month passes, another week, another four days, and finally, he makes a decision.

He calls.

"Kurosaki-kun, hello," he greets warmly. "I've been wondering where you've gotten to, and thought I ought to call."

There's silence, but that's normal, so he goes on.

"I was wondering if you wanted to stop by tomorrow. I wanted to know how your training's been going, and I've missed your little drawings, anyway."

There's another pause, this one longer as Kisuke waits for Ichigo to tap on the receiver- one for yes, two for no. But he doesn't get that.

"Fuck you, Urahara."

Ichigo's voice is soft and whispery, raspy in its lack of use. Hearing it surprises Kisuke so much he almost doesn't realize what's said to him until Ichigo's hung up.

Almost.

Because as he registers the words that were carved into his skin by fate coming out of the mouth of his student, a sound that might be a sharp breath or a sob makes its way through the connection half a second before Ichigo ends the call. That sound, those words, make his stomach fill with lead and drop through his feet, and suddenly, Kisuke understands exactly how much shit he's in.

Fuck.

*.*

Yoruichi used to tease him about it, the words on his inner forearm. She used to say that he was aggravating enough that even his soulmate was annoyed to have him, and Kisuke never really minded. He knew he was irritating to a lot of people, the sort of personality that was, at best, an acquired taste.

Now that he has context, though, he's sort of...Well...

God, he's an awful fucking person. His closest friends hated him for years for inventing this shit, and he actually was stupid enough to put his soulmate through what might be— what is—

Kisuke put a monster in his soulmate's head. That is his fault. His soulmate is a child, and he fucked him up in the same fashion as a literal madman.

Kisuke doesn't leave the lab for three days, after this revelation. He stays curled up on the small futon he keeps in the far corner, half-naked and silent. Besides Tessai, he sees no one.

On the fourth day, Tessai doesn't come. Instead, the person who should be the greatest thing in the blond's life locks the door and kneels in front of him with a water bottle and a tray of sandwiches.

"Tessai called," he grunts, voice still rusty and unused. "Said you've been acting weird." Kisuke's voice is barely a whisper, it's so dry. "How'd he know?"

"You forget," Ichigo murmurs. "Tessai was the one who changed my bandages."

Oh. Yeah, that would make sense.

Still.

"You shouldn't have come," Kisuke says. "There's no point, I—"

“You fucked me up,” Ichigo cuts him off. "You didn't tell me about Aizen when we went to Soul Society, or about the captains. Your training, at best, was rushed, subpar. You wouldn't have been too choked up at my death."

The teen runs a hand through his hair, irritated.

“I’m not gonna let you die,” he says. “I fucking hate you right now, but I’m not gonna let you die.”

Unscrewing the water bottle, he holds it out to the blond, patient as Kisuke obediently forces himself to sit up and take it.

He takes a cautious sip, then spills it on himself as he downs the bottle greedily.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs when Ichigo takes the bottle back. “I shouldn’t have— I’m so sorry.”

Tears threaten and he looks down, away from the boy who was supposed to be his everything.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

The futon shifts as Ichigo slides up onto the mattress, wrapping his arms around Kisuke’s shoulders. He doesn’t speak again, but Kisuke doesn’t mind. The silence is a comfort, now— or Ichigo’s silence is.

Kisuke always expected the happy ending everyone else always got.

He should have known he wasn’t allowed to have nice things.


	6. The Mary Jane Brains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are the cleverest delinquents— entrepreneurs— of the magical age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it difficult to believe Muggle drugs haven't been used in Hogwarts. Especially with the existence of Hufflepuffs.

“So, Hermione, I’ve been reading up, recently, on Magical Law.”

“Have you?”

Harry nods, lounging back against a thick oak tree by the lake. “Yep.”

“And what have you learned?”

“That there are no laws against Muggle drugs.”

Hermione pauses. “How is that relevant to anything?”

Harry shrugs.

“Well, you know, it’s our fifth year, and we’ve got those career meetings coming up soon… I’ve been thinking about what I want to do.”

“And you want to become a drug dealer?”

Her voice is even, her thoughts on the subject masked with a steady gaze and a firm mouth.

He shrugs.

“I figure I could make a few galleons here and there selling some of the smaller things,” he admits. “Just grass, maybe branch out later. What do you think?”

Hermione thinks about it. “There are no laws against it?”

“Not that I’ve found.”

"Do you know how much you'd be selling for?”

“If I could grow it myself? Fifteen pounds a gram, with the price going down as the quantity goes up.”

“Pricey.”

“Like the Magicals would know.” Harry pauses. “How do you know it’s pricey?”

Hermione gives him a sly smile an ignores the question.

“How do you plan to get the seeds?” she inquires.

“And while we’re at it, where do you plan to grow it? It’s not like you can do it on Privet Drive.”

Harry snorts.

“Yeah. Well, I’ve got that figured out, too.” He fishes a key hanging from a long golden chain out from under his shirt.

“Key to the Potter Mansion,” he says conversationally. “Any lock I use it on becomes a door to the place. I found it in my vault this summer.”

“So that’s where you’ve been going all year.” Hermione closes her book. “Well, you have a place to grow, and no doubt have already begun scouting for potential clients… You have been scouting for clients, haven’t you?”

“… Sort of. I have a few Muggleborns who are interested. Hopefully, once they start going, they’ll start pulling in others. Halfbloods, Purebloods, maybe even teachers…” Harry grins at the look on Hermione’s face.“Come on, you can’t tell my Trelawney would turn down good pot.”

Hermione’s face softens. Her eyes crinkle as a laugh escapes her.

“Yeah. You’re probably right. She’d love it.”

Harry grins.

"So, that’s my plan. What do you think?"

"I love it."


	7. Sewn Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ichigo dies, he wakes up in Halloweentown.
> 
> The Nightmare Before Christmas Crossover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a Halloween contest I never got around to— or rather, this was written as the beginning of a thing for a Halloween contest I never got around to. Like three years ago.

Honestly, the dying thing wasn’t too big of a deal. Just a car accident, followed by a few days in a coma. Ichigo didn’t even know he died until he woke up in a leafless forest, head tilted up to the golden moon.

A harvest moon. Lovely.

It takes him a minute to notice the changes, but he does. The way his skin— now paler than his hollow’s, even— is stitched together with black thread, the way his fingers are just slightly mismatched… He notices.

It’s about then that he realizes that he might be— that he definitely is not in the World of the Living anymore.

“I stitched you together as best as I could. Sorry if anything’s off.”

Ichigo jumps at the woman’s voice, turning to find a—

“Are you a rag doll?”

The woman has the same sort of stitch marks he found on his body, with wide eyes and red lips and something like a smile stretched on her strange, blue-white face.

She nods. “So are you.”

“Am I?” he looks down at himself again, taking in the stitches crisscrossing his chest and arms. “Oh.”

“Oh? You didn’t—“ the woman stops, wide eyes going wider. “Oh, you’re a new citizen. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Ichigo offers. “I’m a little disoriented, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yes, well, I’ll take you back to town.” She puts out a small, slender hand. “My name’s Sally.”

“I’m—“ Ichigo pauses. What did he call himself again? “Er… I’m… Itch?”

“The memory loss isn’t unusual,” Sally tells him kindly.

“Sort of a side-effect. Do you remember how you died?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s all that matters. Come on, let’s see if we can find you someplace to spend the night.”

Ichigo reaches out to take her hand, noting how cool the fabric of her skin was against his.

“Um, thanks.”

“It’s no trouble, Itch. Here— the path’s just down that way.”

And with that, Ichigo— Itch— pretty much forgets anything he ever was.


	8. Secrets of Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superheroes are neither rare nor unusual in a town like Karakura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very much a fan of the superheroes-by-night trope.

"Quiet tonight, huh?"

The voice is familiar, which is the main reason he doesn't lash out. As it is, he shifts, readying himself for an attack.

"Oh, calm down, Shade, it's not like I'm going to jump you."

He glances back, golden eyes shining through the the deceptively thin fabric of his faceless gray hood.

"It's best to be prepared, Blackbird. You know that as well as anyone."

The woman chuckles, hopping off the edge of the apartment roof and sauntering over. Her outfit is a black, formfitting little number, covering every inch of skin save for her face. Her mask is a feathered masquerade piece, complete with a long, tapered beak.

"Yeah, yeah." She moves to stand beside him.

"You seen Heart yet?"

"She was handling a robbery on fifth. I didn't want to interrupt."

Blackbird sighs.

"What are you doing out, Shade? You haven't been out wandering like this in months."

The man sighs.

"You know that stuff that was going on?"

"Yeah."

"Well, the shinigami came back."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope."

"So you've got your powers-"

"Yep."

Blackbird scoffs.

"Those assholes."

"Yep. And my pop was in on it the whole time, too."

"Well, we always knew he was a dick."

"Yeah. It wasn't even him that asked. It was- you know. The weirdo."

"You did always like blondes- and Lord knows they like you back."

"Shut up, Tatsuki."

Blackbird elbows him playfully. "So what's with the eyes?"

"They changed color when I got my powers back. Scared the shit out of everyone, but to be honest- I think it's kind of cool."

She rolls her eyes.

"And there's the teenager," she remarks. "They are quite striking, especially through that sheet you insist on wearing."

"It covers my hair!"

"It makes you look like an executioner," she shoots back. "Except without eyeholes."

Shade fiddles with the edge of his hood.

"The fabric's tougher than it looks," he says. "Otherwise I wouldn't be wearing it."

"Well, yeah, obviously. But did you have to make yourself look like a prince out of A Thousand Arabian Nights?"

"For fuck's sake— leave me alone."

Blackbird puts up her hands in mock surrender.

"Fine, fine, I'll leave you to brood. See you in class."

He doesn't answer, and with a little smile, she backflips off the edge of the building, swinging expertly from flagpole to flagpole until she lands feet first on the concrete of the alley.

She disappears into the shadow almost as easily as he does, but he doesn't move for another ten minutes, not until he hears the distant sound of a gunshot.

He needs to keep himself from stewing, just like before, and that's easy enough when he's kicking the shit out of some sleazy yakuza fuckhead.

He loves this job.

*.*

Ichigo has always had superpowers, one way or another. Shade though... Shade doesn't. Shade has his steel-edged fans and his guns and his bulletproof silks. He isn't weighed down by spirits and shinigami because as long as he's working, he's happy.

Ichigo's happy.

The work is the important thing. The work is what keeps him focused, what keeps him sane. Without it, it's likely he wouldn't have survived his year of powerlessness.

You have to be powerful, to be a superhero. Everyone knows that.

The Queen of Hearts is sitting in on the desk when he slips into his lair, peering into a small compact as she teases a red curl out of its bun. Her mask- a silver monstrosity similar to a venetian, with ruby red lips and swirls of red on the cheeks- is put to one side.

She looks up only when he deliberately lets the door click shut behind him.

"Ichigo," she greets warmly, closing the compact and setting it aside. "I thought I felt you sneaking around this evening."

Ichigo pulls the fabric out of his face and folds it neatly.

"What's up, Chizuru?"

She kicks her legs, leaning forward with a mischievous look on her pale face.

"Your shopkeeper is having money troubles."

"Oh?"

"Loansharks from Matsunaga group have been circling. They keep following the girl around, too."

Ichigo's lip curls.

"Matsunaga's a pedophile," he remarks. "Ururu-chan would be worth a pretty penny- maybe even enough to wipe away a debt."

"Yeah. I was gonna handle it myself, but I know how you like yakuza scum..." She trails off, smiling sweetly.

Ichigo likes Chizuru. Despite her forwardness with Orihime, she has a very clear idea as to what he considers his territory, and she respects it.

Urahara Shouten is his territory.

Nodding, he begins to strip off his costume, uncaring of the female presence in the room.

"I'll deal with it tomorrow. Do you have a description?"

"Already put it into the computer. Happy hunting."

"Thanks."

Ichigo attributes most of his scars to the shinigami. There are a few though, that are a little smaller, a little harder to place.

As he puts away his costume, his fingers brush gently over the half moons of scar tissue on his hips. Those are Matsunaga's.

Ichigo's never gone after the bastard. Personal vengeance has no place in his policy, in his code. With the Shouten's involvement, however...

It's the chance of a lifetime, and Ichigo's going to take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey, I've got a couple more I'll post here over the next week or so, but I'm taking prompts on my tumblr! straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com Fandoms include all depicted here, Teen Wolf, Man From UNCLE, and Star Trek (TOS/AOS)! Hell, even if I don't have the fandom listed, shoot me a prompt anyway. I spend a lot of time in the house.


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